A Rosy Outlook

In between rain showers yesterday, I noticed that the Cecile Brunner rose had burst into bloom.  It sits out in the south yard near the clothesline, protected from the deer by its own chicken wire fence.  Deb and Craig gave me this plant some years back.  It has survived snow and real drought, and has more flowers this year than ever, an example of fortitude in the face of adversity.  The Cecile Brunner is an old, old rose; pale pink, with tiny little buds and mini-flowers grown on long canes.  Once in fashion, the buds were used for corsages for young girls.  Given time, the plant will throw up its canes and form a pink frothy fountain or bouquet.  I had such a plant when I lived in West Sacramento, but what I really remember is the Cecile Brunner from my girlhood in Arcadia.  Vincent Spenser lived in a house behind ours, and would just climb over the fence when he wanted to visit.  There was a huge Cecile Brunner plant against that fence, so big that the canes drooped over and made a rose-covered bower that he and I could sit under, hidden and private...a perfect place to share secrets and plans.  Spense and I were buddies, pals...this was in the early fifties, still an age of innocence, and we were young and innocent, too.  The romance of the setting was enough.